


Better

by lincyclopedia



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nobody is Dead, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Panic Attacks, Past Drug Use, Present Tense, Therapy, Year 2 (Check Please!), a tiny bit of zimbits, but they've broken up and they're trying to have a healthy friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincyclopedia/pseuds/lincyclopedia
Summary: Jack is doing better now, most of the time, but when Jack's latest panic attack frightens Bitty, it forces Jack to remember a time when he accidentally frightened Kent, which in turn makes him realize that he and Kent really dobothowe each other a lot of apologies. After talking to his therapist, he decides to try apologizing to Kent, whose memories are even less pleasant than Jack counted on.
Relationships: Kent "Parse" Parson & Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to process some things from my first relationship, which ended several years ago but still reverberates in my life. I held canon rather loosely for the purposes of this fic. This isn't meant to be my definitive view on Jack. It may not vibe with yours, either. I just needed to get this out. 
> 
> For the love of all that's good in the world, mind the tags. This gets heavy.
> 
> Lightly beta'ed by [Khashana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana). Any errors or otherwise bad writerly decisions are, of course, mine.

“Jack. Jack!” Kent exclaims, rushing out onto the deck of the Zimmermanns’ lake place. The worry in Kent’s tone surprises Jack, but only a little. He _is_ rather close to the edge, and the cabin is built into a hill, such that it’s about a 20-foot drop off this side of the deck. It’s just that Jack’s been suicidal long enough that it’s odd to think of death as something worrying, rather than just something _there_ , hanging out at the edge of his consciousness. 

“Do you think I’d die, if I jumped?” Jack asks. “Or just fuck up my legs or my spine?”

“Oh my God, Jack, what?”

“Would this be a reliable way to die?” Jack clarifies. “Because it would suck to survive the fall but wind up paralyzed or some shit.” 

“Jack, oh my God,” says Kent, seemingly stunned into motionlessness. 

Jack takes a few deep breaths, glancing from his feet to Kent and back again. Finally, he says, “Sorry. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course, of course,” says Kent, unrooting himself from the spot and wrapping his arms around Jack. 

Two weeks later, Jack overdoses.

* * *

“Jack. Jack!” There’s something in Bitty’s tone that yanks Jack forcibly back into the past. He hasn’t thought about that day at the cabin in _years_ , maybe not since the overdose. But now he’s thinking of it, and at one of the worst possible times, too. He needs to stop hyperventilating so he can go out there and give his team a speech about how they played well, but he _can’t_. 

Miraculously, Bitty stays with Jack in the equipment room as he rides out the panic attack. It’s a bad one, even by Jack’s standards, but coming back to himself isn’t as awful as usual with Bitty sitting with him. 

When Jack feels like he’s back in his body, he stands, stretches, and says, “We should get back there, eh? But thanks.” 

“Of course, of course,” says Bitty, and this second echo of the past almost undoes Jack, but he forces himself to keep walking.

* * *

Jack can’t look at his therapist. It’s not that he thinks that Alice will judge him, exactly, but he does know that what he did to Kent was bad. Besides, eye contact is hard for Jack at the best of times. So he stares at his hands and plays with his fidget in order to keep his hands busy and his feelings at least somewhat contained. 

“You seem preoccupied,” says Alice. 

“I remembered something I did when I was a teenager. Something I’d forgotten about,” Jack confesses. “It was . . . not a good thing to do. And I feel bad about it, but I don’t know if there’s anything I can do about it now.” 

“Everyone does things as a teenager that they’re ashamed of later,” Alice assures him. “That’s perfectly normal. You don’t need to live in the shadow of decisions you made years ago.” 

“But I think I hurt someone,” Jack replies. “My—my ex.” If Alice has looked up any of the news coverage from Jack’s junior years at all, he’s sure she knows who he dated, because he’s given her plenty of context, but Jack has never said Kent’s name in this office and they both keep up the fiction that she has no idea who this ex is.

“That’s also perfectly normal,” says Alice. “You and he meant something to each other. Any significant, long-term interpersonal relationship carries the likelihood of harm. When it’s a romantic relationship, particularly involving teenagers, harm is practically inevitable.” 

“That doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be accountability, though,” says Jack, grateful that he’s learned the language for this from Shitty. “I talked about suicide in front of him. I was lying to my psychiatrist and my parents and everybody except him, and I’m pretty sure he knew he was the only person who had any sort of read on how I was actually doing. I put it all on him, and we were just 18. What was he supposed to do?”

“That’s a hard one,” says Alice. “I can tell you what he _wasn’t_ supposed to do, though—he wasn’t supposed to corner you at your school, insult your team, compare you unfavorably to your father, and threaten to out you. You put him in an unfair situation when you were both teenagers, but he threatened you as an adult.”

“I know,” says Jack, running a hand down his face. “I’m not saying he’s innocent. But I think I may have started it, and I think I owe him more apologies than I realized, even though I know he owes me a lot of apologies as well.” 

“That’s possible,” says Alice. “Do you want to apologize to him? Do you think that would be safe?”

“I don’t know,” says Jack. “I think we were horrible _for_ each other all along, but at the end we were also horrible _to_ each other. I mean, if it comes to threats I’m pretty sure I can make it mutually assured destruction, and I don’t think he’d actually follow through if his own career or reputation hung in the balance, so I think there’s a limit to what I would be risking. Which isn’t the same as feeling like it would be safe, but. I do think I _want_ to.”

“Do you want to make a plan for what to say, if you do decide to contact him?”

Jack sighs and nods.

* * *

Jack can barely focus on his trip to Annie’s with Bitty. If Jack isn’t mistaken—and Jack’s not at all sure about that—Bitty seems to be flirting with him. Ordinarily this would make Jack happy, but right now he just feels sick. He doesn’t deserve this, because the last time he had a serious relationship he made his partner deal with far more than anyone should ever put on one other person, especially when that other person isn’t a professional. He’s planning on calling Kent as soon as this coffee not-date is over, and he’s having trouble remaining calm. 

Jack avoids panicking at Annie’s through sheer force of will, and then Bittle has to go to class and Jack basically runs to the Haus. The walls are thin enough that he’s a little worried about being overheard, but he doesn’t have a better idea of where to have this conversation—he’s not going to lock himself in a closet in Faber—and most of his housemates have class right now, anyway. 

He hasn’t called Kent in years, but he hasn’t deleted his number, either. 

Kent picks up on the second ring and says, without a greeting, “Are you considering Vegas now? Because it’s a little late in the game for that, Zimms.” Jack hates the eagerness in Kent’s voice.

“No, I’m not considering Vegas,” says Jack. “I’m calling to apologize.” 

“For what, not considering Vegas?”

“No,” says Jack. “Not about hockey at all, actually.” 

“What, there are other things in life? Who are you and what have you done with Jack Zimmermann?”

Jack sighs. “You don’t know me anymore, Kent. But I’m calling because you did know me once. I let you know me more than I let anyone else in, and that included basically making you the only person who had the first clue how I was doing mentally. That was way too much to put on you, especially given how young we were and especially given that I talked about suicide in front of you. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry. I should have been honest with my psychiatrist, at the very least, and probably my parents as well, and I also should have been more careful about what I was putting on you.” 

Kent doesn’t say anything, and it takes Jack several moments to realize that what he’s hearing on the other end of the line is sobbing. 

“Kenny?” says Jack. 

“Oh God, Zimms,” Kent chokes out. 

“Kenny, are you okay?”

“I thought—I thought it was my fault,” Kent manages, still sobbing. “When you—when you overdosed. I thought that was why you wouldn’t—wouldn’t talk to me. Because I’d failed you. Because I was the only one—the only one who could’ve seen it coming, and I didn’t do enough.” 

“Crisse, Kenny, _no_ ,” says Jack. “That never should’ve been on your shoulders, not at that age, not to carry alone.” 

“But why did you cut me out, then?”

“Because we were bad for each other!” says Jack. “Look, Kenny, I don’t blame you; we were 18 and under so much pressure. But hiding our relationship wasn’t helping me, and having me dump everything on you wasn’t helping you. I figured we’d both be better off without each other.” 

“And I didn’t get a say in that decision?” 

This, finally, is the tone Jack expected from Kent, and he’s prepared for it. “No,” Jack says. “I’m sorry, but I needed space.” 

“Okay,” says Kent, subdued. “I suppose that’s fair. Thank you for apologizing.” 

“You’re welcome,” says Jack stiffly. He’s itching to ask Kent for an apology, but he has a feeling that would lead nowhere good. Still, he’s going to feel weird if they hang up and he’s apologized and Kent hasn’t. 

After several seconds of silence in which Jack checks his phone to make sure the call hasn’t dropped, Kent finally says, “I can’t believe _you_ called _me_ to apologize. After what I did this winter.” 

“It was hard,” Jack admits. “But I freaked one of my teammates out last week, and the way he sounded reminded me of you that day at the cabin. I’d forgotten about that day, honestly, until last week, and it had gotten easy to blame you for everything, but I realized last week that I hurt you first. And I’m sorry about that, despite everything you’ve done since.” He debates whether to leave it at that or to add what he’s thinking, and he decides to go for it: “I wouldn’t say no to an apology, though.” 

“Yeah, of course,” says Kent, and he sounds sincere. “I’m so sorry for what I said at that kegster this winter, and for cornering you there in the first place. I was hurt and lonely and jealous, but none of that excuses what I did. I shouldn’t have ambushed you at your school, I shouldn’t have insulted your team, I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I shouldn’t have threatened to out you. I’m sorry for all of it. I felt bad as soon as I left—definitely by the next morning—but by then I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to hear from me.” 

“I didn’t, then,” says Jack quietly. “But thanks. It means something to hear that now.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever learned how to be around you without worrying,” Kent admits. “And I don’t know where the line was between manipulating you and trying to save you. I’ve been to a lot of therapy, and like—kissing you was the best mechanism I had for getting you to calm down, and getting you to do what I wanted was necessary sometimes to keep you from taking another pill or hurting yourself, and it’s hard to tell, in retrospect, when I was being selfish and when I was being selfless, or what I wanted physically for myself or for its own sake, or any of that. And it got all twisted when I visited Samwell, I know, and I should’ve been smarter and better and kinder about it, but none of this formed in a vacuum. Which I know isn’t an excuse. But it’s real, anyway.” 

Jack is honestly pretty horrified. “You don’t know what you wanted physically for yourself?”

“Not all the time,” says Kent. He was crying earlier; how is he calm _now_? “There were times when I wasn’t sure I wanted to kiss you, but you were on your way to a panic attack and I knew kissing you would calm you down, so. I did. And you had that pocket knife you played with, but you kept it way too sharp, and I knew I could get it away from you if I said certain things or especially if I kissed you cross-eyed, you know? So I did. Like, what, was I supposed to just let you cut yourself? But I think I got good at getting you to do what I wanted, and I can’t promise I always used that for good or selfless reasons.” 

“But crisse, Kenny, I never should have put you in a position where you had to do that, or learn that. Ever,” says Jack. “Fuck, I’d forgotten about the pocket knife.” 

“You don’t have scars?” Kent asks. 

Jack pulls up a sleeve and checks, as if he doesn’t see his own arms all the time. “Not really.” 

“Well, good,” says Kent. “Those would probably be hella triggering.” 

“Yeah,” says Jack. 

It’s quiet for several moments. Finally, Kent asks, “What does this mean?” 

“What do you mean by that?” Jack asks. 

“Do you want us to be in each other’s lives again?” 

“Why would you even want that?” Jack asks. “It’s pretty clear our relationship wasn’t good for you.” 

“I don’t think we should date again,” says Kent. “Like, we definitely shouldn’t. But regardless of all the shit that’s gone down between us, you _got_ me, Jack. Better than I think anyone else ever has. And it’s exhausting being queer and closeted in the league all by myself, without anyone knowing for sure about me or about us or any of it. It would be nice to have a friend to talk to about that. And also, I liked being needed. Which is probably its own problem and I’ve talked to my therapist about it and I will again, but like. Doing something that actually mattered felt good in a way. It was a nice counterbalance to pursuing playing a literal game for a living, you know? Which isn’t to say that I liked it when you were a wreck, because I would have given almost anything for you not to be a wreck, but I didn’t hate what it cost me, even when the price was steep.” 

“If we do this,” Jack says, “and it’s definitely an if, we need ground rules. On both sides. I’m in a much better place now, most of the time, and I’m honest with my therapist about it when I’m not doing well. I’m never going to put you in the kind of position I put you in when we were teenagers. And you don’t get to try to manipulate me, or show up unannounced, or try non-consensual physical affection, or insult my team, or threaten me. And neither of us gets to out the other, and if either of us is going to come out on purpose we have to give the other a heads up. Can you agree to that?”

“Yeah,” says Kent. “I’m worried I’m going to fuck up the no-manipulation clause, though. Like, I’m gonna try, but it’s part of my pattern with you, even though I know that’s a bad thing. Can you call me on it if you think I’m manipulating you? I don’t want to put it on you to make sure I treat you well, but I’m not sure I can get this right on the first try.” 

Jack takes a few moments to breathe and consider that. Then he says, “I think it says good things that you’re being honest about that. That doesn’t make it okay for you to be manipulative and go, ‘well, I warned you’ when I point it out, and if you pull that I reserve the right to cut you out again. But if you’re willing to put in an honest effort, then I’m willing to try too.” 

“Yeah?” says Kent.

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I think I should go, but I’ll text you, okay? I’m so glad you called today.” 

“So am I.” 

The line goes dead and Jack stares at his phone in his hands for a minute. He can’t believe any of that just happened. He feels guilty as hell about the shit he pulled as a teenager—he’d forgotten about the pocket knife, fuck—but he’s also very, very glad to have gotten an apology from Kent. 

The next week, he talks to his therapist about it all. She says he shouldn’t have treated Kent that way as a teenager and that the whole thing sounds very complicated, and then she asks if he thinks he can safely be in contact with Kent now—safely for him and for Kent. Jack says yes, and he and Kent start texting semi-regularly and have a couple more phone calls. It still feels fraught, and there’s a lot they don’t know about each other these days, but it feels good to be trying, both because they do understand one another quite well and because Jack feels like he’s earning his own trust back when it comes to whether he can possibly be a good romantic partner. 

Meanwhile, he becomes more and more sure Bitty is flirting with him. One day, about a month after resuming contact with Kent, while the rest of the team is otherwise occupied and Bitty is making pie, Jack comes to the kitchen and asks him out. 

The next day, he asks Kent and his therapist both for ideas of what to watch out for in himself, to make sure he doesn’t do to Bitty what he did to Kent. It’s helpful. Jack thinks he can do an okay job of this.


End file.
